Ficlets, Drabbles and Deleted Scenes
by Anthimaeria
Summary: A collection of my short writing: fluff, angst, and romance. Overall rating based on highest rated fic posted. I plan to update this periodically. HarryDraco, slash.
1. Chocolate Newts

** Disclaimer:** All characters are the copyrighted works of J.K Rowling. No profit was made by the writing of this story, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author.

**A/N:** This scene was deleted from my Hogwarts-era fic, When Harry Cursed Draco (not posted here due to its rating). Chocolate Newts are more expensive than Chocolate Frogs, and more difficult to find. They are also much easier to eat than their froggy counterpart, as Newts are usually half-asleep and not easily roused.

* * *

Harry had long heard the rumour that Narcissa Malfoy sent chocolates to her son every day, and now he knew it to be true. Draco had gotten into the habit of hiding little treats for Harry, slipping them into Harry's book bag and other places where he knew that Harry would find them. 

When Ron saw Harry pull a wax paper parcel of exquisitely formed Chocolate Newts out of his desk in Potions class, Harry laughed and blamed Romilda Vane. His eyes briefly met Draco's across the room, acknowledged by an almost imperceptible lift of blond eyebrow, and he flushed a little.

Ron held up his hand in protest before Harry could open the package. "None for me, thanks!" he declared.

Harry snorted, remembering Ron's disastrous experience with Romilda's most recent love offering. "Maybe I'll save 'em for someone special."

"How 'bout Malfoy? Be a treat to see him mooning over you, stupid ponce that he is."

Harry laughed merrily, mostly to himself. "No, I'm far too good for him," he corrected, knowing Ron would never realise how close he came to catching on. Later that night, Harry knew, he would lay in bed with curtains drawn. He'd pop the chocolates into his mouth one by one and savour the rich sweetness melting on his tongue, surrounded by Draco's warmth even in his absence.

Without looking at Ron, he slipped the package into his robes, selfishly grateful to keep Draco's gift all to himself.


	2. Enigma at Rest

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the copyrighted works of J.K Rowling. No profit was made by the writing of this story, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author.

**A/N:** Based on Gay Aurors, Part 5 (Enigma Rising) by the lovely Charlotte Sometimes.In the text of Enigma Rising, my ficlet fills the gap between the time that Harry collapses on top of Draco, and the morning after. Please ignore any mild plot discrepancies between this fic and Charlotte's (such as how Draco was untied); this is just for fun!

* * *

Draco breathed deeply, or tried to, in spite of the pressure of Harry's full weight resting on top of him. Not wanting to squash him, Harry slipped off of Draco and rolled to his side. 

Draco's hands dangled loosely from where they were tied, his sharp talons long since retracted. With a flick of his wand and a murmured incantation, Harry released the bonds chafing at his narrow wrists and ankles, and Draco sank softly into the cushion below him.

Harry had never seen Draco so completely limp and relaxed. All tension had evaporated from his body, finally free of the frenzied lust which had gripped him earlier. Even with Harry's restraints, it must have taken much of his strength to withstand the siren call of the veela during their ritual. The wild fluttering creatures had brought out something within him that was beautiful and strange, and as dark and evanescent as the night itself.

Draco stirred, flinging a long arm across Harry. He muttered something sleepily, then snuggled into Harry's chest.

Harry wasn't sure he had heard correctly, but he decided to go with what his heart was telling him. "I'll stay with you, I promise," he whispered in reply, hugging him close, but Draco was already asleep.

A single tear ran down his face as he realized this might be the only chance he'd ever get to really hold Draco like this. Ever so gently, Harry stroked his back, his buttocks, the span of his shoulders. He kissed the pointed tips of his ears, smiling as Draco snored quietly. Even drenched with sweat, his hair smelled so sweet, like new-mown grass.

_Oh sweet dragon prince, won't you come home to me?_

Kirley Duke's pop tribute to Draco echoed absurdly in his head, and Harry scowled at the memory. _Bad luck, Kirley, he's not your sweet dragon prince_, he thought determinedly.

_He's_ mine


	3. Another Door Opens

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the copyrighted works of J.K Rowling. No profit was made by the writing of this story, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author.

**A/N:** Written for an impromptu songfic drabble challenge at LiveJournal community Serpentinelion. Prompt [from "Happy Christmas (War is Over)" : _A very merry Christmas, and a happy new year. Let's hope it's a good one, without any fear._

* * *

The war is over now, and Harry's leaving. It doesn't matter that it's Christmas; the cheerful chiming of church bells mock Draco's despair. He knew the end was coming, knew it weeks ago when Harry first crawled into his bed.

Draco listens to the rustling of Harry opening drawers, getting dressed. He burrows into the covers, dreading the door shutting for the last time.

A warm hand on his shoulder, then Harry gathers Draco in his arms. Draco tenses, biting his lip, not wanting to know.

But Harry whispers, "Come with me," and finally, Draco lets Harry see him cry.


	4. Why Harry Can't Sleep

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the copyrighted works of J.K Rowling. No profit was made by the writing of this story, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author.

**A/N:** Set during HP, Harry's POV. A poem, sort of.

* * *

I try to think about what task Voldemort may have given him

But all I can think about is the way my breath would ruffle his fine hair.

I want to know if he's taken the Dark Mark

And how I'd take him for the first time, sharp ankles rubbing my shoulders with each thrust of my hips.

I yearn to see what he needs from that Room

Though I know he needs to stifle his sobs against my chest, my heartbeat calming him.

And I long to hear that he loves me, too

Before the night swallows him whole.


	5. Clockwatching

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the copyrighted works of J.K Rowling. No profit was made by the writing of this story, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author.

**A/N:** Harry waits for Draco. My own version of a sequel to the wonderful "Advanced Charms" by Miss Paraphilia.

* * *

Wednesday. Finally, Wednesday. 9:00, Malfoy had said.

For three nights and nearly three days, Harry had suffered the agonies of waiting. Seventy-six whole hours without Malfoy's mouth his arse his hands his cock, the quiet, urgent noises he made, his hot, mysterious flesh trembling under Harry's fingers.

8:23, the clock said. 8:24.

The floor creaked, but the door didn't open. Harry sighed. Noisy old castle.

Still 8:24.

"Malfoy," he whispered, pursing his lips to form the M. It was almost like kissing him. Almost. "Malfoy..."

8:27. Harry's ears strained. Was that--?

A husky voice, an almost-smirk. "About time, Potter."


	6. Reflections

Malfoy's eyes are the palest shade of blue-grey Harry's ever seen. _Cinerous_, Dean Thomas says as he sorts his paints. _Grey, with a touch of Alice blue._

Hermione tells Harry that Malfoy's a French name, but Harry suspects those eyes are Nordic in origin. They've reflected ice and fjords and ancient moss-covered runes; they're the eyes of late December mornings, long-past.

Whether shining with the triumph of conquest, red-streaked and tearful in defeat, or defiantly blue amidst the leaping fireplace flames, Malfoy's gaze is unrelenting; someday, Harry knows, those eyes will reclaim their lost warmth, mirroring his own forgotten smile.


End file.
